I love poetry. Love the skies and all it's forms throughout the days. Even during all the pollution and walls we've made to block the ways to heavens and make our own artificial heaven. The 8 am cold breeze coming through the car window, billowing my already disheveled hair, freezing my cheeks to have it in a pretty pink rouge is exhilarating. It makes me feel free from the suffocation I have yet to feel all throughout the day inside the colourless scraped walls of my school. The mine of knowledge- is what they say. But really it's just a mine, with countless children with their colourful pallets, diminishing into a cluttered mess of black and grey each day as they grow and bloom into what their forced to. Only those who get the luck to be able to dig gems from the hard rocks of the mine- are those who can be free from it and go far away to where they wish to.
I love stargazing, love how even a little kindness to an unknown person can make them so surprised as if they've never been shown that much of kindness before. I love to photograph my surroundings. The subtle things which may not look pretty at first. Candids and slightly blurred pics of my loved ones- because their the ones which hold the most raw and purest smiles. Out of happy accidents for we couldn't hold back ours inside, not enough to resist just taking a picture of it to remind us forever.
I love animals. Love how their so innocent, so faultless and yet so helpless parts of the society. I love music. It flows through my veins how the collective art and talent of people and their spirits can create such magic that touch our heartstrings to the point it hurts us from it's beauty.
I love art and all of it's strokes and colours. How it's so subtle, so humble but powerful enough to portray such important and perhaps ignored messages of the world.
It's really unfair and sad that this terribly false world does not have any place for the terribly real souls. For they are so kind, so selfless, so eager to bring colour to the black inked world that in the end their the ones who become void of any colour. Their the ones who lose themselves trying to make others find themselves.
When they are not worse enough, compicated enough or not mentally fucked enough- their not worthy enough to be accepted.
If they are healing from their own demons, they are immediately outcasted, abandoned from the people they considered as their angels.
If they are kind, they are termed as dumb, foolish.
If they are determined for their dreams and passions they are termed as nerds and bullied until they lose that passion. To dream, to love, to live.
If the soul searches a little bit of solitude for once, others would label it as lonely, alone, pathetic.
For the world is fucked up and no one is accepted if they are not as such.
-younger self to older self
